


Kiss of Mercy

by StarWolf802



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angels of Death, Assisted Suicide, Character Death, Depression, M/M, Matpat - Freeform, Matthew Patrick - Freeform, Mercy Killing, NateWantsToBattle - Freeform, Nathan Sharp - Freeform, Schizophrenia, Suicide, The Game Theorists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWolf802/pseuds/StarWolf802
Summary: Coup de grâcenoun, /kudə ˈgrɑs/. French.1. a death blow, especially one delivered mercifully to end suffering.2. any finishing or decisive stroke.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work has two chapters. This chapter will be AntiMatter as an angel killing Natemare. Chapter Two is the reverse.

Natemare stares at the wall, eyes blank. He knows he probably stinks, and that his arms are sticky with drying blood, and that there's piles of clothes scattered around his room from him undressing in a rush and then falling into bed. But he just can't find it in himself to care.

He's so tired. So, so tired. Everything feels so hopeless and he can't even entertain the thought of getting up to clean his wounds and take a shower. That's far too much energy for him. 

Natemare squeezes his eyes closed. There's nothing for him in this world. Ever since he separated from Nate almost six months ago, he's been living in a crappy apartment using money he gets from selling his body to anyone who'll buy it. It's the only way he can feel something again. Still, no matter what he tries, he doesn't get the peace of death he so badly wants. 

With a great effort, he rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling with burning eyes. His hair is oily and messy and there's deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. Scruff makes his cheeks and chin stubbly. 

When he hears the rustling of someone else in his room, he doesn't even bother to look up. It's probably just his landlord, looking for this month's rent. Natemare hasn't turned it in because he's been too exhausted and unmotivated to get out of bed.

“Rent’s on the table by the door in the envelope.” Natemare's voice is hoarse and emotionless. “Take it and go. You said you didn't care what my apartment looked like as long as--”

“I am not your landlord, Tyler.” 

That makes Natemare look up, heavily propping himself up on one elbow to stare tiredly at the man who's appeared in his room. He hasn't heard that name since he died. It twists his heart, burning his eyes with memories of the happy, optimistic child he once was. How does this random person know it? 

As the man steps closer, into the evening light filtering in through the blinds, Natemare realizes there has to be more to him than your average guy. Appearance wise, he's actually breathtakingly attractive. Fluffy, wavy brown hair, equally brown eyes, with fair skin and a sharp jaw. His eyes are soft with something sad and almost apologetic. He's dressed simply, wearing jeans and a t-shirt underneath an unzipped leather jacket. Even in such average and unassuming clothes, his beauty is almost otherworldly. Natemare has a hard time thinking of anything else.

“Who are you?” Natemare asks weakly. “How do you know that name?”

In response, the man smiles a little. There's a jolt in Natemare's chest at how much more beautiful it makes him. He's so distracted that he barely notices the two wings carefully unfolding from the man's back.

“My name is Matthew.” Matthew's wings tremble, then still. “I am an angel.”

That explains it. Natemare tears his eyes off Matthew and flops back to the bed, closing his eyes so he's not as tempted to keep staring. Angel. What a joke. 

“I'm not going to Heaven.” His voice is bitter. “What kind of angel are you that you show up just to taunt me? Want to really see what you've done? Here you go. Take a good look, angel.” He lets his arm flop over the side of the bed, exposing the deep, long cut down his forearm. Blood is sticky around it, staining his skin red, and as Natemare clenches his fist, more sluggishly leaks out. 

“I am not that kind of angel, Tyler.” Natemare hears Matthew pick his way over the cluttered floor and his bed dip as the angel sits down on it. “I do not serve the people who hurt you.”

“So you're from Hell, then?” Natemare asks, keeping his eyes closed. “Fuck off. I'd rather lay here in my own blood than go back there.”

“I have no side. I am neither good nor bad.” Matthew's voice is soft, and Natemare jumps as he takes his bloody arm into his hands. His fingers are cool against Natemare's burning skin. Natemare feels soothing cold flow through his arm, sealing the cuts up, as Matthew speaks again. “I am an Angel of Death, Tyler. I've come here to free you, not to taunt you.”

Natemare scoffs. “Yeah? And what's the catch? Do I have to be your servant in the afterlife for all eternity?” He slowly takes his arm from his eyes, glancing at Matthew. “Not that I'd entirely mind that…”

Matthew gives a soft laugh. “No catch, Tyler. No fine print. Kiss me, and it'll all be over. Isn't that what you want?”

He lets go of Natemare's arm, gently setting it down, then reaches for the other one. His eyes are focused on the cut down Natemare's arm. Natemare looks at him with half-lidded eyes, struggling to remember what he wanted to say. Yes. Of course he wants that. 

“Promise?” His voice is weak. He can't help how childish the word comes out, how pathetic it sounds. He knows how much promises are worth when you deal with beings like angels. 

Matthew traces gentle fingers over the equally as deep wound on Natemare's other arm, soothing the burning pain as the skin seals back together. “I promise. It won’t even hurt.”

Natemare is unable to stop a soft whimper. His bitterness is fading. 

“I won’t be put back in Hell, will I?” His eyes are scared as he looks up at Matthew. “I don’t want to go back to that awful place. I just want relief.”

Matthew shakes his head. “No Hell, no Heaven, no Purgatory. Just sleep.”

“Do it.” Natemare's words are immediate. “Please, just...please. I'm so tired. It hurts so much.” 

“Don't worry,” Matthew says, voice barely above a whisper. He slowly reaches down, cupping Natemare's scratchy cheek in one hand and rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. “It'll be just like falling asleep. No more of this, Tyler. You'll never wake up like this again.”

Natemare feels tears well in his eyes. Matthew is still so beautiful, leaning above him with kind and gentle eyes and his fingers soft against Natemare's cheek. 

He can barely believe it. After so long, he'll have rest again, he'll have peace and quiet and he'll be able to sleep. Natemare smiles weakly as Matthew leans down and presses his soft lips to Natemare's own. 

Natemare feels the tears fall, slipping from his eyes and wetting his hair. Matthew's kiss is like nothing he's ever felt before, and he's kissed many, many times. Matthew's lips are heavenly soft and cool, his mouth experienced and undemanding. In his mess of emotions and tears, Natemare is clumsy, desperate for what Matthew promised him.

There's something that Matthew's kiss awakes in him, a pull in his chest. He can almost smell the breeze carrying the scent of the baywater when he was a child in Seattle, or the feeling of sitting with his sisters watching a movie after school. The kiss makes him feel like he's home. Like he's safe again. 

Natemare can't stop a choked sob as Matthew pulls away. He doesn't want it to stop, that familiar and warm feeling that he hasn't felt in so long. Tears stream down his cheeks in earnest now, Natemare making no effort to hide his sobs. 

Matthew makes a quiet shushing sound like he's a mother comforting a crying child. That's what Natemare feels like, a frustrated and tired child who needs a nap. 

“Shh, shh, Tyler, it's okay,” Matthew whispers gently, stroking Natemare's hair as Natemare curls up on his side next to him. “It's okay, I promise. I promise. No more pain. It's just like falling asleep. You're safe now. You're going home.”

Natemare only cries harder at that. That's all he's ever wanted since he's died. Searching for something to ground him, to hold onto, he reaches for Matthew's hand. 

Matthew gently slips his fingers into Natemare's, holding his shaking and bloody hand tenderly. “I have seen so much pain like yours, Tyler. You are not the only one. You are not lesser for choosing this path. You have done so well and made it so far, and ending it here does not make you bad or weak.” 

Natemare nods tearfully, clutching Matthew's hand like it's a life preserver and he's drowning. The words don't seem to compute in his brain. He is weak. He couldn't save himself like he should've been able to. He's pathetic and he deserved the suffering he got.

“You did not deserve what happened to you, Tyler.” Natemare feels Matthew pull the blanket up and smooth it over Natemare's body. “A mistake was made, and an innocent boy was hurt in ways that only the worst people should be. I know what they do in Hell, Tyler. And you didn't deserve any of it.”

Natemare cries unashamedly, curling up as tight as he can with Matthew's hand gripped between his own. He can feel his body weakening, thoughts growing fuzzy and shapeless in his head. The only thing he can seem to keep clear is the sensation of Matthew's soft lips, the scent of water in the bay, and the warm, comforting feeling of  _ home _ .

“Sleep.” Matthew leans down and gently kisses Natemare's feverish temple. “You've done so well and worked so hard. I'm proud, Tyler. Your family would be proud, too. You've been so strong. Death is not weak. Death is not bad. Death is peace. Death is the warm embrace of someone you love, it's a blanket on a cold night. For you, Tyler, and for so many others, death is  _ mercy _ .”

Peace. Sleep. The two words run circles in Natemare's foggy thoughts, and he weakly smiles to himself. Yes. He can sleep, and he can have peace. All he's wanted. 

He glances up one last time, wanting to see Matthew again. The sight of the angel leaning over him with a kind and almost loving look in his eyes, a lock of hair falling in front of his face, is the last thing Natemare registers before he sighs, eyes fluttering closed. His chest stutters, then stills, and his hand no longer shakes in Matthew's grip.

Matthew smiles gently, placing two fingers to Natemare's neck and knowing he'll find no pulse. He slowly pulls himself away from Natemare's body, giving a final kiss to his forehead.

“You fought well, Tyler. The universe will welcome you with open arms.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not in the same universe as the one before this.

AntiMatter shivers, trembling like he's about to fall apart. He's huddled in the spare bedroom of Matt's house, curled up on the bed in the corner with his legs pulled up to his chest. It's the middle of the night but his light is on, bathing the room in warm light. 

AntiMatter's eyes dart to the corner, wide with fear and panic. He whimpers softly, curling tighter into himself and pulling the blanket up like a shield. 

“Please leave me alone,” he whimpers, closing his eyes and turning his head away. “Please go away, please, I'm sorry for what I did, please leave me alone.” 

He doesn't want to look back to the corner. Even with the light on, he keeps seeing things, monsters and shadows and faces in the walls. He hears them, too, whispering in his head. AntiMatter whimpers again, tears starting to roll down his face. For three months he's been trying uselessly to get away from the hallucinations, the voices, the paranoia and delusions that plague his thoughts constantly.

Nothing helps. He can't go to a doctor, he can't get medications, he can't go to any therapy, he can't even use street drugs to get away from it all. He only has a roof over his head and clothes to wear because Matt and his wife took pity on him. 

AntiMatter sobs, burying his face in his arms after pulling the blanket up over his head. His heart pounds in his throat, and any second he expects to feel clawed hands rip the blanket off as the monster drags him back down to Hell. Fear clouds every thought and it becomes a struggle for AntiMatter to even breathe properly, his breaths coming in short, strained gasps in the stuffy cocoon created by the blanket. 

_ \--here for you, Daniel! We've come to take you home! We've come to take you--! _

_ \--look at yourself. Why are you so afraid of going back to Hell? It's where a crazy person like-- _

_ \--kill, hurt him, make him suffer, you're going to do it anyways so why not do it now-- _

The voices overlap in his head, making AntiMatter clamp his hands over his ears, digging jagged nails into his head.

“Shut up!” He cries, squeezing his eyes closed. “Just-- shut up! Shut up!  _ Stop _ _!_ ” His voice is weak and breathless. He still can't breathe. The tears are flowing in earnest now, making his already heaving lungs work harder. Sobs push past his lips and AntiMatter dissolves into a mess, rocking back and forth under the blankets with his hands on his head and his cheeks soaked with tears.

AntiMatter feels a scream build in his throat as the blanket is pulled off, huddling up and preparing for the leering face with no eyes that's just one big mouth waiting to swallow him up--

AntiMatter braces for it, but it doesn't come. 

He tearfully looks up, hiccuping. The man sitting next to him on his bed is unfamiliar. His hair is black and shiny, styled to the side, matching his dark eyes. There's a vague almond shape to his eyes and his bottom lip is plump and full. Faint freckles dot his fair skin, and as he smiles gently at AntiMatter, AntiMatter can almost forget the mind numbing terror he felt just moments earlier, instead focusing on this stranger's beauty. 

“Hello, Daniel,” the man says gently.

AntiMatter blinks. Daniel? How does this person know that name? 

“Who-- who are...you?” AntiMatter struggles to turn his disorganized thoughts into speech. His fear is ebbing away, as if just the presence of this person is calming him. 

“You may call me Nathan.” Settling more comfortably on the bed, Nathan gently takes the blanket he pulled off AntiMatter and wraps it around AntiMatter's shoulders. AntiMatter doesn't resist, too stunned and emotionally raw to respond. He just stares dumbly as Nathan sits back. Nathan smiles again. “I'm an angel, Daniel.” 

“An angel?” AntiMatter thinks for a second, looking at Nathan worriedly. “I'm...why...why are you here?”

“Not that kind of angel,” Nathan says softly. “I'm a Death Angel, Daniel. I've come here to offer you peace.”

AntiMatter wraps his arms around himself. “I don't wanna die.” His voice is weak and pathetic. 

“You don't want to be sent back to Hell,” Nathan counters, keeping his voice gentle. “This wouldn't be that at all. I'd kiss you, and it'd be just like falling asleep. You'd be gone, Daniel, just like that. No more hallucinations. No more nightmares.”

AntiMatter thinks about it for a moment, eyes distant. He does want that. He wants so badly to just be gone, never have to fight with his own mind ever again, never have to wake up in a cold sweat again. 

“I don't want to be alone…” He glances up at Nathan, eyes scared. “Not again.”

“I'll stay with you.” Nathan reaches up to tuck a piece of AntiMatter's soft hair behind his ear. “I would never let anyone die alone. I've watched you hurt, Daniel. It's okay to be afraid, but you don't want to keep living like this. I know you don't.”

AntiMatter hesitates, looking down at his trembling hands. He clasps them together to try to stop it.

“Will it hurt?” The question is timid, AntiMatter closing his eyes and preparing to be scolded. 

Nathan smiles just a little, covering AntiMatter's clasped hands with his own. “Not even a little bit.”

After a long, painful pause, AntiMatter nods quickly. “Do it.” 

Nathan reaches forwards, taking AntiMatter's chin in his hand gently and turning AntiMatter's head to face him. The angel's eyes are soft and kind. AntiMatter can't tear his gaze away from the deep brown of Nathan's eyes as he leans closer, slowly covering the distance between them. 

AntiMatter's chest feels hot and there's a lump in his throat as Nathan's warm lips press against his cold ones, his eyes slipping closed. There's something undeniably comforting about it, Nathan gently kissing him like a lover might, his hand gently gripping AntiMatter's jaw. It makes something stir inside AntiMatter, something he forgot a long, long time ago, something that he isn't sure he ever really knew. The feeling of safety. The feeling of  _ home _ .

AntiMatter slowly blinks his eyes open as Nathan pulls away, mouth hanging open. He can forget the fear and loneliness he felt not even half an hour earlier just from that kiss. He's never kissed. He has Matt's memories of doing it, but he himself has never felt it. If that's what it feels like…

“You're being so brave, Daniel,” Nathan whispers, and AntiMatter suddenly remembers exactly what that kiss means. Panic flutters at the edges of his mind again. He's going to die. Nathan obviously sees that something is wrong from the look in his eyes because he places a hand on AntiMatter's wrist gently. “Do you want me to hold you?” 

AntiMatter looks up at him, surprised. He wants that so badly. Now that he thinks about it, he's always wanted that. Someone to hug him and hold him, someone to be there. But...he doesn't want to be weak…

“You can say yes,” Nathan says softly. “I won't think any less of you for saying yes.” 

AntiMatter hesitates a moment longer, then quickly nods. “Please…” 

With ease, Nathan gathers AntiMatter up into his arms, holding him against his chest. AntiMatter relaxes a little bit more, beginning to feel drowsy. It'd be so nice to sleep…

His mind rebels against that thought, screaming at him to fight, to heave and gasp for air until he physically can't anymore. He flinches. He doesn't want to fight anymore. Nathan promised he'd be safe and he wouldn't have to fight anymore after this.

“I know it's scary.” Nathan's voice is calming and quiet in AntiMatter's ear. “You're being so strong and so brave, Daniel. You can do this. Don't fight it. Just take deep breaths and relax. It'll be over soon, I promise. No more fear, or loneliness, or pain. Just peace and quiet and warmth.”

AntiMatter nods tearfully. He can feel himself starting to get tired, so tired that his eyes start to close. His body feels all floaty and light, and even as his brain screams at him that he needs to fight against the feeling, it's getting quieter and quieter. 

“There you go,” Nathan says quietly. “You're doing so well. Your sister would be so proud of you.”

AntiMatter manages a weak smile. His sister… He hopes so badly she's okay. Would she be proud? It doesn't matter. All he can think of is her smiling face and the feeling of being held.

Then, with a soft, relieved sigh, AntiMatter is gone. 

Only then does Nathan gently set him down, checking his pulse with a steady hand and smiling when he finds nothing. He smooths AntiMatter's hair and pulls the blanket up to cover him, making it look like AntiMatter is only sleeping. 

“You were so brave, Daniel. The universe will welcome you with open arms.” 


End file.
